Torturing a Corpse
by Frosted Skies
Summary: What if Jack isn't like other spirits? If he doesn't have a heartbeat or a need to breathe? What would happen if Pitch tried to torture him? SHENANIGANS THAT'S WHAT!


**Tortureing a Corpse**

Most people think that I, Jack Frost, came back to life when I rose up out of my lake. I didn't. I am still, essentially, a dead corpse. A zombie that won't rot. I have no need to breath. No need to eat or sleep. I don't feel pain (hence why I get in to so many accidents). I don't bleed properly, blood comes out, yes, but it won't affect me. I don't get sick. The one thing I do do, though, is heal. At an insanely fast rate. All of this is why, when Pitch captured me and announced that he was going to torture me, I just laughed in his grey, sharp featured face.

"Hello Frost." He sneered seemingly pleased with himself.

"Morning Pitch!" I chirped also happy enough. My hoodie had been removed for whatever reason and I was chained to the wall by my ankles, which were above the rest of my body. Yes, that's right people, I was upside down. The room I currently occupied was a dungeon, cell type thing. Dark (obviously), probably cold and smelled funny. I blamed Pitch for the smell. Pitch looked at me funny when I said hi. Probably unused to greetings. Poor bloke.

"So I'm going to assume you would like to know why you're here, yes?" He said, composing himself. I thought about it a bit before I came to my answer.

"Not really, this is really awkward by the way." I replied, straining to look at his face properly. This gave him pause.

"You don't want to know why you're here." He deadpanned. "Why you're chained, upside down I might add, to the wall, in a dungeon. Not an inkling of curiosity. Not one?" I don't think he believed me, what with all the disbelief on his face.

"Nope." I grinned, popping the 'p'. Pitch just sighed.

"Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. You are here because I kidnapped you because I am going to torture you." He cackled. It was good, very evil-y and stuff. I processed his words and, before I could stop myself, started giggling. Pitch didn't notice at first but when he did he stared at me before asking,

"Why on earth are you laughing?" He snapped, confusion etched on his face. I composed myself, a few insane sounding giggles bursting through my lips every now and then.

"Nothing, nothing at all." I gasped, then started laughing again at the look on Pitch's face.

"Well then, we'll just have to get started, won't we Snowflake?" He cooed, I stared up at him.

"First of all, don't call me Snowflake, it's creepy. Second, can you chain me the right way up first? I want to be able to see your face properly." I listed. Pitch cocked his head to side before nodding, flicking his wrist and sending nightmare sand to unlock my ankles and wrists, turn me the right way up and lock me up again. It was kind of fun, in a weird way. I smiled again and thanked him. Pitch was looking more uncomfortable by the minute, now that was fun.

"Hmm, what first..." He mused, looking me up and down. "Oh! I know, I'll start with something simple." Pitch grinned, showing off his yellow, pointy teeth, that reminds me...

"Hey, Pitch, how come your teeth are so pointy?" I asked. The question caused said spirit to falter in creating a large knife out of nightmare sand.

"Excuse me, what?" He said, stunned that I was asking questions while he was making a weapon designed to torture me.

"How come your teeth are so pointy? Did you file them or were you born like that?" I repeated.

"I was born like this. Now stop asking questions!" Pitch snapped. He turned his attention back to the knife he was almost finished, after a few moments he looked back up at me with a malicious grin covering his features. He held up a knife, it was long, sharp and wavy with little spikes jutting out the sides in all directions. It was designed to deliver me as much pain as possible. _**Too bad my nervous system doesn't work.**_ I thought with amusement.

"I would say this wouldn't hurt... But I'd be lying." Pitch grinned. _**No you wouldn't.**_ I thought, smirking inwardly. He advanced towards me, knife held in a tight but casual grip, ready to slice open my flesh and see blood pouring out of me while I scream in agony. _**As if that would ever happen! **_He brought the knife to rest against my left collarbone, I looked at it, waiting for it to pierce my flesh to be dragged down, most likely across my ribs down to my hip, healing all the way, leaving not even a scar.

"Well, get on with it then!" I said frustrated, impatient and unamused at the way Pitch was dragging this out. He only spared me a sinister glance before pushing the knife in to my shoulder down to the bone before dragging it agonisingly slowly, as predicted, down across my ribs to my right hip. Pitch was rewarded with a small dribble of blood down my left arm before the wound sealed itself up leaving an extremely-confused-and-agitated Pitch and a laughing-at-Pitch's-face-because-it-is-so-funny me.

"What the freaking hell. What just happened?!" Pitch demanded, staring at me with his gold/silver eyes.

"I'm a freaking magical corpse is what just happened!" I replied, studying his face for his reaction. Shock, confusion, understanding and pity flashed across his face before it settled for thoughtfulness.

"I could use a guinea pig for my nightmares..." He mused. I smirked my trademark cheeky smirk.

"Sorry pal, but I don't sleep."

"Well you are of no use to me then," Pitch sighed exasperated. He flicked his hand and my hoodie appeared on the floor next to me with my staff, the shadows released me. "Leave, before I think of something else to do to you!"

"Sure thing... **Bogerman**." I said before I flew out the lair to spread winter and cause shenanigans.


End file.
